Evidence
by insaneprincess
Summary: Draco/Hermione. A collection of drabbles, witnessing the D/Hr relationship through a different character's eyes each chapter. Each chapter is a different character, different moment, different version of D/Hr. Angst, humour, drama, friendship, and love.
1. Pansy Parkinson

Disclaimer: I do not own :)

A/N: Okay, so. I began writing this as a big long one-shot, and tonight, I changed my mind. Because I'm really enjoying my other Dramione drabble story, "Shards of a Broken Mirror" I knew I'd like this. This story shows how a variety of HP characters view Draco/Hermione's relationship. The thoughts of these characters do not all occur around the same time -- some may be at their wedding, some may be at their first kiss. They also won't be about the same Draco/Hermione relationship. One might be about a Dark!Dramione, another may be light and humourous. They'll all be about different versions of the Dramione couple, at different times in these different versions. If you don't understand that, just ask me to explain again, or read a few chapters to get the hang of it.

Also, I'll do loads of different characters, but I may repeat some. I might like their POV. But, each one will be about a different moment, in a different version of D/Hr. Hope you get it!

The drabbles will be pretty short, too. About 500 words? But it will definitely vary per character.

Some of these will be canon, most will be fanon.

I'm not thrilled with the first two chapters, but they were written months ago, with some editing tonight. I hope for the others to be better, give me that chance ;)

Enjoy, and please review.

Pansy Parkinson;

He thinks no one sees it.

I sit next to him, drinking him in. He looks around blankly. He sees nothing.

Zabini talks loudly, thinking everyone is listening. They're not.

Crabbe and Goyle sit drunkenly, even though they're not drunk. They look around emptily.

I look at the pale statue sitting beside me. His eyes hardly move from the door. The only sign of life is his quiet breathing.

Then _she_ walks in.

He's alive in the space of a heartbeat. His eyes flicker to hers and they connect. She blushes and looks away. He continues to look at her. He watches how she walks, he watches how she sits. She can feel it, it's evident.

I trace his arm. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't look at me. It stings more than a glare or insult would.

She flips her hair over her shoulder and glances at him. He smirks, but it isn't cruel, it's teasing and familiar. It was a smirk you gave a friend.

Or a lover.

Her smile is too happy, his eyes are too bright. They think this is invisible. It's pathetically obvious.

I try to look at her and not see dirt. I try to see what he sees.

She's pretty, in a strange sense. But he can get any girl he wants, and there are hundreds prettier than her. So why would he pick someone so average?

She's smart, of course. But since when did he ever want a girl who cared about nothing but her marks? She's a brainiac with no life, and we both laughed at her for it. Before.

I try to come up with another half-hearted compliment when I look at her. Instead, all I see is his reflection in her eyes, and the smirk on her lips.

When I look at her, I see nothing deserving.

I glance at her many times until the bell rings. I can't see what he sees.

He brushes past her when he leaves the room. No one notices the lack of insult. No one feels the electricity in the air. No one sees how he glances back at her and _winks_.

No one notices me tremble.

I let them pass me. I lean my head against the cool brick wall.

I wish he would ask if I'm alright. I wish he would have concern in his eyes.

He doesn't notice. He walks past, his eyes darting to hers. Silver meets gold. They smoulder.

I look at the bricks. They don't comfort me.


	2. Blaise Zabini

Disclaimer: I, unfortunately, do not own Harry Potter. I really wish though.

A/N: Blaise. No, all of these won't be Slytherins. But this was written months ago, and these two were pretty much done. This chapter is much lighter, and more humourous. Parts are serious, but I think of Blaise as a light-hearted guy.

That's right GUY. Prior to some strange fanfiction belief, Blaise Zabini is male. I'm making that clear because in this chapter, he's a guy, and I don't want anyone thinking he's flirting with Draco or something. So, he's a guy.

This is a little shorter than Pansy's. Just saying.

Enjoy, and please drop a review. They make my day :)

Blaise Zabini;

I am attempting to talk to him. He isn't listening. Again.

It's about Quidditch, too, which isn't exactly inconsequential. The season is getting intense, and yet, he's sitting there, nodding vaguely, paying absolutely zero attention.

The thing is, it's really annoying. Especially because he thinks that he's a good actor, and that I can't see exactly what, or rather, who, he's staring at desperately.

I would be shocked, and I was, for about a month and a half. But when it never ends, and they never break up, you have to get used to the strange relationship they have.

Never dreamed it would happen, though. I can say that much.

He's pathetic. He sits there, pretending to look at me, except he's looking past me. At her table. Of course.

I'm sure she's doing the same thing.

I pick up an orange from the fruit bowl, and consider throwing it at his head. No matter how satisfying it seems, I know it won't happen. I'm a good friend. And even though I'll never get over his obsession with a Mudblood, I'm also kind of twistedly proud of him. He grew up. It's more than I ever thought could happen.

But still. Enough is enough.

"Don't you agree Draco?" I ask him in a sugar-coated voice.

He looks up at me, dazed. "Hmm?" he says. "Oh, right, of course. Yeah, We'll crush Hufflepuff."

I roll my eyes. I was talking about Hufflepuff twenty minutes ago.

"Draco," I say, through clenched teeth, "I was talking about Ravenclaw."

His eyes go a little wide, but he acts unfazed. "Right," he mutters. "Whatever."

I take a deep breath. I'm sick of it.

"Drake…" I say hesitantly. "Do you have anything to tell me?" I nudge my head not-so-subtly towards the Gryffindor table.

He nearly jumps. "What?" he chokes. "No, no way. I mean, why would you think that?"

"You look at the Gryffindork table a lot."

"Yeah, cause you know. I hate them so much. They're just… yeah."

I roll my eyes, looking down at the orange in my hand. I've squeezed it, and the juice is everywhere.

I think of it as Draco's head since he's started dating her.

He keeps looking at her table.

I sigh.

Hell, I tried.


	3. Scorpius Malfoy

Disclaimer: I / d o / n o t / o w n .

A/N: This one is pretty different. Scorpius Malfoy. This is set in the epilogue, nineteen years later, (canon, obviously) of the seventh book. Different than the prior two chapters, where D/Hr were together, and keeping it hidden. They aren't together, this is canon. Scorpius notices his father looking at a certain brown-eyed woman ;) Angst, people!

Scorpius Malfoy;

I don't quite understand it.

I know that my mother is beautiful. I like her flowery perfume, and I like her soft hugs. I love my mother.

And I know my father does, too.

I know it.

My father always holds her, and they talk to each other sweetly. Maybe not as much as other parents, but we are Malfoys after all.

But there is something different about being here.

I'm excited, and slightly nervous, now that we're here at the platform, not that I'll explain that to my parents, because we aren't like that. But there is something that has caught my attention beyond that.

My mother keeps talking about how I'll love it at Hogwarts, and that I must keep my marks up, and things like that. My father isn't listening.

He's looking at a woman, a couple feet away, with thick brown hair, and deep brown eyes.

She's very pretty, I get that. But I don't get the way he's looking at her.

He doesn't look at my mother like that.

And I don't understand, because there's something meaningful in the way that he looks at her. Like he's drinking her in. Like he only has this very moment to see her. Like at any moment she'll disappear.

He looks at her like he's dying.

And I don't understand why she seems so beautiful to him, when my mother's standing there, with her shiny blonde hair, and her loving green eyes.

And then the woman turns around and looks at him.

He doesn't look surprised, but her face softens. She bites her lip, and they both just look at each other, like it's been a long time since they've seen each other, and like this moment might be their last.

The train whistle goes. It's time to go.

He sighs and turns away. I am surprised by the sadness in his face.

"Have fun," he says, which is unexpected for him. Before, he only told me about discipline and how important it was to be Slytherin.

I merely nod, and glance back at the mysterious woman. She is looking away now, but she looks sad somehow.

While the train pulls away from the station, I see through the window that my father is looking at her again.


	4. Viktor Krum

Disclaimer: I don't own it :)

A/N: Well, this is a little angsty too. And a little short, but not as short as some of the other ones.

But, I hope you enjoy. And please review!

Viktor Krum;

I was kind of nervous.

After all, I understood what a catch she was. I understood that she was both beautiful and smart, and that I was just some guy.

Yes, even famous Quidditch players got nervous sometimes.

And I was kind of nervous.

I'd tried to talk to her before, and I didn't know how to now. I just knew I had to ask her before someone else did. For all I knew, she was already going with someone. So, I had to. Now or never, right?

And I knew where to find her.

Slowly, I opened the door of the library.

It took me a few minutes to find her, her nose buried in a book in the Transfiguration section.

It took me a few more minutes to gather the courage to ask her.

She looked up at me, surprised by my presence. Her deep brown eyes were wide with shock.

And I didn't know quite how to ask her.

Did I get down on one knee? Give her a flower? Just ask her outright? I was suddenly afraid. I had no idea what to say.

She evidently didn't know what to say either. She'd never had a conversation with me before, so maybe this was just tremendously awkward.

I'd always been there, though, in the library. And although, I was there to keep up my studies, and enjoy a different school's library, the real reason I was there was her.

I admired her dedication to her studies. I admired the way she was always at the second table on the east side, with the sun hitting her hair and turning it gold.

Simply, I admired her.

And her brown eyes were very deep as she looked at me in curiosity and confusion.

And, so, in a rush of words, I just asked her.

And she looked at me, entirely in shock.

It seemed as if she froze for a moment, and there was something in her eyes that said no. That maybe there was someone else.

And I was okay with that. But I still cared about her.

But then she smiled. A tiny, shy smile.

"Yes," she whispered.

And I entirely forgot the look in her eyes a moment ago, because what mattered to me was the quiet joy in them then.

And so, a moment later, I left that aisle of the shelves, triumphant and happy. And I ran right into a blonde boy in Slytherin robes, rushing out of the aisle beside mine.

I apologized quickly, but he just glared at me with grey eyes like thunder. And it was at that point that I noticed the tears gathering them, and the way his mouth twisted with hurt.

He shoved past me, and as he left the library, I noticed the red rose he dropped at the door.


	5. Minerva McGonagall

Disclaimer: Harry Potter? Yeah, I don't own it. I know, it kind of breaks my heart, too.

A/N: Well, this one was unexpected, but I'm happy about it. Minerva McGonagall! :) And this one is much happier than the last two, so enjoy.

Thank you so much for all of the kind reviews. You guys are absolutely amazing :)

Enjoy, and please review!

Minerva McGonagall;

I had always looked forward to classes. A professor should enjoy teaching, after all. And I did. I loved it.

But lately, my sixth year Gryffindor/Slytherin Transfiguration class provided me with greater reasons to enjoy teaching.

Frankly, I looked forward to that class all day.

And so, unlocking the classroom that Tuesday left me with a smile on my face. And as the students piled into the classroom, I paused for a moment to observe and admire their small and entertaining cliques.

My eyes fell on my three favourite Gryffindors. Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were in a deep discussion – most likely Quidditch – and Hermione Granger's nose was buried in her Transfiguration book, seven and a half chapters ahead of the class. However, upon entering the classroom, her eyes lifted for a moment, surveying the room with uncanny interest.

I smiled to myself.

I shifted my gaze to the opposite end of the room, where many Slytherins were already seated.

Blaise Zabini was near the centre, in the midst of a deep conversation with Daphne Greengrasss. Pansy Parkinson was simpering on the arm of Draco Malfoy. And Draco Malfoy himself was tiredly looking away from the pouting girl beside him. His eyes wandered the room before locking on the Gryffindor side of it.

And so, class began.

After the lesson portion of class was complete, and the students were practising transforming a frog into a mouse, I began to slowly walk around the room to watch their progress.

Among other things.

Mostly, of course, I was there to make sure Ron Weasley didn't kill himself, and Seamus Finnigan didn't blow up the classroom.

But, there were some things that an observant person couldn't miss.

And I had to smile to myself when I noticed it, again.

The two that were always finished first, the Slytherin and the Gryffindor, the pureblood and the muggleborn, the cunning and the kind, were once again, having a staring contest over the entire classroom.

I had to smile to myself at the way they could communicate without words.

I also had to smile to myself at the way no one else in the class noticed.

It had been a shocking development a month ago. Frankly, it still was. I couldn't imagine how it had happened, but it had.

Some way or another, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy had fallen in love.

And I knew how hard it was going to be for them. And I knew they would hate keeping things a secret. And I knew they would go through a war, fighting against each other, no longer understanding which side they were fighting for.

But I also knew, as I looked on approvingly at the mice sitting on their desks, that they were intelligent. They were brave and cunning. They were strong. And they would fight to be together.

The bell rang, loudly signifying the end of class. And, as the students flooded out of the classroom, I smiled to myself when no one noticed, as he looked into her eyes, and for a brief moment, took her hand.


	6. Susan Bones

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. My name is not J.K. Rowling. There is nothing I can do to change that. Stop hurting my feelings.

A/n: Okay, well. This was going to be posted last night, but decided they hated me. But it's all cool now, we're friends again. :)

Susan Bones! Well, this is much more dialogue based, and not so much about Susan, than the moment she sort of... eavesdrops on. A little different style, I suppose.

I realize that the verb tenses seem to change per chapter, now. I know I need to just find one that works, but I'm not sure what that'll be. Most likely, they'll all just change, and hopefully that's not a major flaw, and doesn't confuse anyone.

I would like to really, really, really thank all of you reviewers. You literally make my day, you're so sweet. I love you guys, and you inspire me to update faster. Although, I'd like to mention, school starts up again for me on tuesday, so the updates won't be as frequent. But, anyways. Major thanks to you guys.

Enjoy, and please review.

Susan Bones;

I liked the fresh air. I liked the breeze at six in the morning on a Saturday, when everyone else in the castle was asleep. I liked going and sitting in the owlery and watching the daybreak, and writing to my parents. It was peaceful in the morning.

And that was what I was planning on doing that Saturday morning in April. It was a typical day. Perfectly normal, in my mind. Until I reached the stairs leading to the owlery.

I could hear them from the bottom.

"What are you doing up at six in the morning Mudblood? Planning on hiding in the library, seeing as you have no friends?"

"How very witty of you, Ferret. Insult me about having no friends, when we're both perfectly aware that I do. If anyone's lacking in that department, that would be you. And, I have no reason to tell you why I'm up, as I could ask you the same question."

I rolled my eyes. They were at it again.

Transfiguration on Thursday had been brutal. I used to think that Harry and Ron had the biggest problem with Malfoy. Until about three months ago, and then, out of nowhere, him and Hermione were in constant screaming matches. They never got in trouble and never got caught. But they were positively lethal when angry. And their arguments never ceased.

They'd never hated each other more.

I continued up the stairs, until I was halfway up, and just flopped down. There was no point in entering the owlery while it was in the middle of a war-zone. I liked my head being attached to my body, so I remained where I was.

"Ah, a letter, Granger? Who's it for? Weasley, telling him how much you love him?"

"Oh, no, Malfoy. It's this charming secret admirer I have, you see. We're having a kind of literary affair." I could almost see Hermione rolling her eyes.

"Is that so?" Surprisingly, his voice was serious, and almost dangerous. My brow crinkled. This didn't seem so typical.

"Mhm. You know, he just seems to get me. He's just so poetic and dreamy. We're going to meet soon. He's afraid he won't be good enough for me, silly boy. I happen to know he's just wonderful."

My eyes widened. She sounded… almost… teasing?

And then, I very nearly jumped. Draco Malfoy just… growled. At Hermione Granger.

"Wonderful, huh?" he asked, his voice sounding sulky and angry.

There was a silence, for a moment. And then, surprisingly, Hermione laughed.

"Oh, Draco, honestly. You get jealous so easily. I'm writing to my parents."

"Yeah, well." He sighed. "I just get so sick of hiding it, you know?"

She let out a deep breath. "Me too. But I think there's hardly another choice. Although…" I could hear the smirk in her voice. "I hardly think it's necessary to act this way when we're alone in the owlery. There's nobody here Draco. It's a little excessive, don't you think?"

He laughed, a deep, husky sound. "Maybe."

And then… My eyes widened even further, as I peeked my head around the spiral staircase, to get a glimpse of the open room at the top. My jaw dropped.

I turned around the spiral again, collapsing onto the step. They were snogging. _They were snogging._

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, who hated each other more than anything, were snogging.

Well, I thought to myself. I guess I'm going to have to stop coming to the owlery early on Saturdays.


	7. Teddy Lupin

_Disclaimer: Not mine, never mine._

_A/n: I am really, really sorry. I haven't updated in forever, and I know that. But since being back to school, I've had homework all night, every night, and I have two other WIPs as well. I am still working on this fic, really. I have a long list of people, and I'm really enjoying writing it. I'm sorry about the slow updates, but I really can't do much about that._

_Anways. Here's Teddy Lupin. An unexpected character, I know. And you might not know where I'm going with this, but, trust me, it's Hermione/Draco. It is. Really._

_Not sure who the next chapter will be. Suggestions are welcome, and know that if I don't write that character for the next chapter, it doesn't mean I'm not considering them. I just need ideas :)_

_Anyways, I hope you enjoy this, reviews are love._

Teddy Lupin;

I've been stumbling over it forever.

She's practically my cousin, though. And I know that. I know I shouldn't even look at her.

I just… sometimes, you just can't help it.

I can't say why it is Aunt Hermione I'm going to for advice. It doesn't make much sense, even to me. Aunt Ginny has always been the one to help me through everything. I don't know why. But I just… I can't tell her this. She really is a Weasley. What would she think?

And Aunt Hermione is just here today. Maybe that's the only reason. But whatever it is, I'm walking up to her.

I don't understand why she insists doing the dishes the Muggle way, but she does. Uncle Ron mutters things about how just because she grew up that way didn't mean it stayed like that, but she ignores him. They often ignore each other.

In any case, I need to talk to someone, and here she is.

She's scrubbing at a teacup, and quietly singing to herself. She has a nice voice, quiet and raw, and I can just make out the lyrics,

"_Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket. Never let it fade away."_

"Aunt Hermione?"

She turns around quickly, surprised. "Teddy," she says, smiling. A piece of her hair falls from the hasty bun she's stuffed it into. It hides her smile.

I force a smile for her, chewing on my lip, thinking of someway to phrase my thoughts.

"What's wrong?" she asks, evaluating my expression.

I exhale. "Nothing," I say. "Just – Nothing."

"Teddy…"

"It's just… I… Well, I know it's wrong but, I… care about Victoire. And you know, I mean I care about all of my friends," I say, not liking the curious look she's giving me. "But Victoire…I … just. Well, I …like… her. Not like a sister."

Her eyes light up. Hell, her whole face lights up. "Oh, Teddy that's –"

"Horrible."

Her face falls a little. "No, it's not. Why would it be?"

"She's… She's my cousin!"

"Teddy…" she shakes her head, tucking the piece of hair behind her ear. "Victoire isn't really your cousin. She's just like your cousin."

"It's wrong," I insist. "I mean, everyone else would hate me for it. All the other Weasleys and everything… I just… It's so wrong. I feel horrible."

She doesn't try to comfort me for a minute, just looks at me. Considering. I don't know what, but it looks like she's making a decision.

"Teddy," she says finally. "I'm going to tell you something that I've told hardly anyone."

I blink, surprised. That's not what I thought I'd hear.

She glances at me, before turning back to the dishes. I can tell it's not because she wants to wash them, she doesn't want to meet my eye. She's… afraid.

"I love my husband," she begins.

And that, right there, is a terrifying beginning. Because either this is some emotional mushy story that does not help me at all, or there's a very imminent 'but' about to follow this sentence, and that's no good either, because marital problems are not something I want to hear.

I chew on my lip, unsure what to do. I think of a way to change the subject. I can't, though. I can't, because there's something in her eyes, as she avoids my gaze, that says that telling me this matters more to her than me.

She scrubs harder at the plate she's washing. I wait.

"I love my husband," she repeats. She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.

"But." She sighs. "But, I haven't loved my husband my whole life."

I stare at the floor tiles. I try to pretend I'm not hearing this.

"And when I was sixteen myself, I fell in love with the wrong person."

I look up.

She nods, laughing a little. "It was awful. He was a Slytherin, and our friends hated each other. For the longest time, _we _hated each other. And I couldn't even tell anyone."

She turns away from the dishes, not pretending she's doing them anymore.

"I…" she laughs. "I was stupid, and insane, and I knew it. I was in love. I didn't give a damn what anyone said."

She looks surprisingly young for a moment. It's not so hard to imagine her, sixteen, living life her way.

She sighs, and she's a parent again. She's herself. There's something bitter in her eyes.

"We never told anyone. We kept it a massive secret, and I lied and snuck around. And I'm not telling you to do that. But I mean it. If anyone had known, they would have killed us. We were on the verge of a war… we were selfish… the timing was so dangerous…"

Her hands are gripping the countertop behind her. Her knuckles are turning white. Her gold wedding band stands out in stark contrast to her pale, clenched hands.

She turns, and when she looks at me, I see how empty she looks for a moment.

"I'm not saying to hide this from your friends. I'm not saying it's right to care about Victoire. I'm not saying I was right, because I don't know if I was. All I'm saying is you can't help who you fall for. You can't. And you can try to change it all you want, but that doesn't work either. So, go for her Teddy. It won't change if you do nothing, and hope you get over her. Love doesn't go away, so you might as well make the most of it."

She's finished now, and I don't think she knows she's subconsciously fiddling with her wedding band. I just look at her for a moment. It's unbelievable how someone can hold onto so much emotion, and never let it show.

And I know that's what she's doing, when I go up to her, and give her a hug. She's tense, and I know she just wants to collapse. But she won't. She hasn't for such a long time, I'm not sure she remembers how.

But I give her a hug. Because she needs it, I know. She's helped me, and she's hurt, and I care. And I whisper to her,

"Thank you."

And she knows I'll never tell. She knows, as she nods quietly, and I walk away.

I pause in the doorway, and turn to see her return to the dishes, and watch a tear fall into the soapy water.

And, quietly, I hear her begin to sing again.

"Catch a falling star…"


	8. Rose Weasley

disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine, in any way, whatsoever. That, is depressing.

A/n. So. I'm really sorry. This is incredibly late, and it's been what? A year? In my defence, I've been lacking in inspiration and in time. But still. I feel really bad for not updating this sooner.

Nonetheless, here is the Rose Weasley chapter. There's Rose/Scorpius in this, and I apologize for those who aren't fans of that pairing, but I'm greatly addicted to it, so here it is. This will be the only chapter with it though. I think the next one will be Ron, eventually, but you never know.

But hey! This chapter is alot longer than normal ones. That might be because of my love for not only DracoHermione, but also RoseScorpius, but ah well.

Again, my major apologies. please enjoy, and reviews are always appreciated and loved.

Rose Weasley;

As far as I'm concerned, and as I'm sure any rational person would agree (not that rational people are easy to come by these days), a twenty-three year old girl, living with her fiancé, should be allowed to see said fiancé for more than ten minutes two days before her wedding. However, my family clearly did not agree on that point, seeing as my life, two days before my wedding, was filled with last minute fixing of my dress, securing photographers, ensuring that my family's speeches wouldn't be hideously embarrassing (and knowing Hugo, that was a legitimate concern), and other final details for the over-the-top wedding that came with marrying a Malfoy.

Yes. I, Rose Weasley, once a proud Gryffindor and Head Girl, in complete sanity and by my own choice, was marrying Scorpius Malfoy.

And because it was such a big deal, the wedding itself had to be a huge affair, with hundreds of relatives and friends and business associates. It wasn't my style at all, I was a low-key person, and so was Scorpius. But, as it happens, the Malfoy family is not. At all.

And neither was the Malfoy Manor – the venue, and currently, the place the entire wedding party was staying. The wedding party that pushed silverware and bridesmaid dresses in my face every three seconds.

I'm an organized and hard-working person, really. I'm my mother's daughter. I'm also independent. And by the time that it was two days to my wedding, I was thoroughly fed up with playing the bride and not having the chance to see my groom, _whatsoever._

By the time I went to bed that night, I was close to tears. Crying was a bad habit – sadness, anger, stress; it seemed that everything caused it. And that night was no exception as I childishly glared at the single bed I would be sleeping in again, _without _my fiancé.

I'd just resigned myself to falling asleep when I felt a weight at the bottom of my bed. Instantly, my eyes were open. I'd heard all about the war from my parents, I knew I had to be on guard. Where the hell was my wand? I began to fumble for it in the dark when a hand clamped over my mouth – clearly the intruder expected me to scream. In hindsight, that would have been a better choice than trying to find my wand.

"Rose, calm down, it's just me," a warm, familiar voice whispered in the darkness, accompanied by a low chuckle. "Lumos," Scorpius whispered, and his handsome face was suddenly visible right in front of me.

"Scorp!" I yelped, throwing my arms around him. "I feel like it's been bloody forever since I've seen you," I pouted, kissing him lightly. "I miss you."

He grinned. "I miss you too," he whispered, pushing back a loose tendril of my hair. "And that's why I thought we could have a midnight snack."

My answering grin was as bright as his wand. "Deal. Lead the way," I told him through a smile, grabbing his hand.

* * *

The Malfoy kitchen was rather eerie at night – dark and shadowy, the only light coming from the opened French patio doors, casting the room in an ethereal, silver, moonlit glow.

"So," Scorpius said, a charming smile filling his face as he kissed his way down the line of my jaw. "What would you like to eat?"

I bit back the tongue-in-cheek answer I wanted to give him – _"You."_ – and was about to reply before I heard faint voices. Confused, I turned toward Scorpius, who was now looking suspiciously towards the patio that the opened French doors led onto, clearly having heard the murmurs too. Exchanging glances, we silently made our way to the doors, crouching down to view the strange scene unfolding outside. My mother was leaning back on a lounge chair, sipping a glass of red wine, her back to us. The bottle was on a small glass table beside her chair, and it was half empty. And filling the lounge chair beside her, also facing away from us, was none other than Scorpius' father. My jaw had dropped. I gaped at our parents, sitting civilly together – our parents, who supposedly couldn't stand each other. I leaned closer to catch my mother's soft voice in the sweet August air.

"Care for some wine?" she asked gently. "I brought it from our place. I figured I'd be needing it, but you're welcome to have some." She swirled the alcohol in a way that could be described as elegant if one overlooked her shaking hand.

"I'm more of a whiskey person," he replied with a flash of an unexpected smile. "As I'm sure you're already aware."

Although I didn't understand the reference or why my mother flinched at his statement, I still caught her following words, mostly because it involved me. "I don't happen to have whiskey on hand, but I recommend the wine, if you don't want to go find your own drink. Our children are getting married two days from now, Malfoy. I think that calls for some alcohol."

I felt as if I had been punched. I didn't know whether my mother's words were meant as a veiled insult or not, but they felt that way. I didn't want to watch this conversation anymore, but it was like a car crash. It seems that when something hurts to watch, it's exactly what you can't tear your gaze away from. I was frozen in place.

Scorpius' father's smile was surprisingly genuine, and his laughter light. "On that count, you're right, Granger."

I heard my mother's sharp inhale. "That's not my name anymore."

There was something wistful but hard in his eyes. "I know. But calling you anything else sounds wrong to me." He shook his head while filling his glass with wine. "I loved calling you Granger."

My mother looked younger than I had ever seen her, but she hesitated before speaking. Her tone was on edge. "Why?"

"Because it was mine," he said, taking a drink. He noted her look of confusion, the moonlight bleaching the colour from her eyes. "No one else ever called you that," he explained. "To your friends and housemates, you were Hermione." My mother's first name was strangely gentle on his tongue, but it still sounded foreign to my ears. "To your professors, you were Miss Granger. To the entirety of the wizarding world after the war, you were Hermione Granger, and then Hermione Weasley." His voice was bitter on the word 'Weasley' but he swallowed it fast, forcing himself back into a lighter tone. "I was the only one who ever called you Granger. It was mine. Ours."

She looked down, the line of her mouth twisting down, something hard breaking in her eyes. It reminded me of the look upon her face if I disappointed her. "Draco…" she whispered quietly.

"What?" he said harshly. "You want me to not mention it, pretend it never happened? Pretend it's not horribly awkward for this to be happening? Sit here and say that we're so happy for our children when we're not?"

My eyes flickered in surprise to Scorpius, pressed beside me. His jaw was clenched, but his eyes were bewildered. His hand slowly gripped mine.

I turned back to the patio to see that Draco had set down his wine and was sitting up, very close to my mother. "You can't do that either," he whispered. "You can't do that. Do you want to know something?"

My mother nodded mutely as his hand grabbed her arm, his fingers tracing patterns upon her skin. "When he first told me he was dating Rose Weasley, of all people, I couldn't speak. All I could wonder was if she was just like you. If she was ridiculously smart, and somehow so beautiful underneath her cold mask. If her favourite colour was green even though she was a Gryffindor. If when she smiled, she got that one dimple that could knock him breathless." He ghosted a finger across her lips and onto her cheek, vulnerability laced in his expression. She closed her eyes at the sensation, biting her lip. "If when she kissed him," he continued, voice rough, "he forgot what he was about to say. If he would kill for her, die for her, do anything for her. I wondered if he loved her for all the same reasons I loved you. And I knew, somehow, that he'd done the smartest and bravest and _best _thing in his life when he proposed, because he did what I couldn't do." He reached up, and slowly pushed a messy tendril of my mother's hair behind her ear. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were honest, and I realized that he meant every word, even though he clearly hadn't meant to say everything that he had.

The tears were gathering in her eyes as she opened them. "Do you know what I hate?" she asked unsteadily, not waiting for an answer. "They look like us. And they sound like us. And I feel like every time I see them, it's a slap in the face for everything I gave up on. And I feel horrible. Because they're so right for each other. And I hate them for it. Because they're so young and so in love, and they deserve this, and it wasn't our fault. There was a war. It was harder times…" She was fullblown crying as her head fell to his shoulder.

"We were stronger than that," he whispered, holding her hand. "We should have stayed together, to hell with what anyone thought."

"No." I barely caught her quiet whisper, as she shook her head, the weight of it still supported by his shoulder. "We weren't that strong. We'd like to pretend we were, but we'd just hardly survived a war, and you were going through prison trials, and Ron kept asking me for dinner, and no one could ever even know. We weren't strong at all. And though we sit here and hate ourselves for it, we didn't take the easy way out, we took the only way out."

She lifted her head to show her tearstained face. He wiped her tears furiously. "In two days," he whispered, "we're going to our own wedding."

She shook her head. "Don't do this anymore, please." Her voice broke on the last word. "I'm married and so are you, and regrets are nothing at all. All our lives, we've just been pawns for the war, and you know it. We just followed the paths we were meant to, played out the futures we were supposed to have. We were never supposed to break the mould. It's Rose's and Scorpius' story, not ours, and we can't be so petulant to sit here and feel sorry for ourselves. We made this choice years ago. It's way too late to sit here and hate how our children are doing exactly what we couldn't."

She stood up, gathering the wine and glasses, slowly wiping the last of her tears away. "Maybe we should go back to bed now," she said, voice blank and emotionless. "The rehearsal's tomorrow."

"I miss you," Draco said, voice quiet and broken. "All the time."

I watched my mother pause, her back to him, and close her eyes. "Sometimes," she whispered, voice heavy and filled with such hopelessness that I felt tears fill my eyes. "I miss you too."

As she approached the French doors, I pulled Scorpius' hand and dragged him toward the stairwell, not prepared to face my mother after what I had just seen, and heard, and _felt_. He followed me blindly to my room, escaping the kitchen before my mother caught sight of us through her tears.

* * *

I fell upon the bed, but Scorpius remained standing, seemingly dumbstruck.

"My father," he whispered. "My _father_."

"And my mother," I replied quietly. "I can't understand it either."

"No," Scorpius, whispered, sitting down on the bed now, playing with a strand of my hair. "It's not that."

I blinked, confused. "Then what else could it possibly be? I think the shock would be that our parents are – _were_ – in love with each other."

He shook his head, picking up my hand and drawing circles in my palm. "That didn't surprise me that much. I was more shocked that my father, who I've idolized my whole life, was too much of a bloody _coward_ to stay with the girl he wanted to be with."

I looked up at him, surprised into silence. His eyes were hard, his expression like stone, and his voice like ice. "Scorpius?" I whispered, bringing a hand to my face. He glanced at me, eyes softening only a fraction. "They made that decision together," I whispered. "Maybe it was too hard. Or maybe they were both cowards."

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter," he whispered. "I'll never leave you." He brought his lips to my forehead, and whispered the final words of that night, words he would repeat two days from that moment in our personally written vows. "I'll never be scared to love you like you deserve."


End file.
